Paramour
by last.one.leaving
Summary: A collection of ficlets and oneshots for every pairing involving the trolls and humans of Homestuck. That's 120 pairings; you're bound to find something you'll enjoy! Rated T just in case, may go up in future chapters.


**Author's Notes: **Firstly I would like to let you all know that this challenge, while brilliant, is sadly not mine. I am borrowing it from Stripe, whose fanfiction _Flushed _inspired me to have a go myself! So please, visit her stories too, leave reviews and such...you know the drill. As I'm (eventually) going to write 120 of these babies, they will not all be particularly long and they may not be my best work, but I know some of these pairings are gonna be a stretch, so please forgive me.

All characters in this fanfiction belong to Andrew Hussie.

**After****  
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It was sudden and unexpected when he blinked and found himself in the living room with an insatiable urge to play Bro's Xbox. He stood still for just a moment, barely long enough for a full breath.

Was he...going to do something before? The sensation ran the course of his gut, the niggling sensation one has when one moves to accomplish something or other and promptly forgets what it was.

He shrugged it off, allowing the frozen Xbox game to beckon him instead, and doesn't manage to get many gaming minutes in before the damn thing crashed again and he had no choice but to reset. He moved to switch it off when his phone buzzed in his pocket, and removing it he saw deep red text flash on his Pesterchum.

He was sure he couldn't identify the Chumhandle...but all the same, a flicker of barely-registered recognition- not recognition, but..._what was that feeling? _Some nameless variety of deja-vu that pricked at the back of his brain.

"Hello!" the text seemed to cheer. Did he know this person? Tentatively, he typed three letters into the message box, the word acting as a singular representation of nonchalance that barely smothered his budding confusion; "Hey".

The reply was back before he could collect his thoughts.

"I think it's absurd that I never introduced myself in all that time I was moping around the lab," the text continued, "guess I wasn't in a very good mood."

...Who the fuck was this person?

"Hi Dave, my name's Aradia."

It clicked. She was a follower of one of his websites. Why hadn't he thought of that before? He tapped out some standard replies on his iPhone before his brain engaged. _How did he know Aradia was a she?_

"Also, asl?" He added that as an afterthought. God, he was feeling weird today.

The girl/boy/whatever seemed confused. An awkward 'um' flicked onto his screen before the answer, "Six, a girl, and somewhere very close to you,".

A girl. See, he knew. He must have put two-and-two together so fast he'd doubted himself. Of course, what retarded parent would name a boy Aradia?

Wait, six? He knew this game. He damn well knew this game. A troll. Only trolls said they were six years old. What was up with that, anyway? His fingers tapped out a reply roughly echoing his thoughts.

Their exchange was pretty normal considering the ones he'd had with trolls before. She insisted he was the one being dumb, he continued to be exasperated; the normal cycle ran its course before he sighed and gave up. He did not have time to be having stupid conversations with so-called six-year-olds. He was kind of a big deal.

"I think I'm gonna shut off my phone now, see you," he typed in his trademark shorthand, and hovered his finger over the off button. A pause. Just to see her reaction. They were usually priceless.

This one was not.

"Yes. That's definitely what you did the first time we had this conversation."

...?

"So I will wait patiently while you realise that's not what you're going to do this time."

He jammed his finger down on the button.

His phone was still flickering at him. He couldn't bring himself to do it. What was going on?

He was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and hurled into dizzying deja-vu. He remembered this conversation. He remembered switching his phone off and never talking to the girl again. He remembered not giving it not one moment's thought after the phone was off, sitting down on the sofa with all the puppets strewn around it and zoning out on some Xbox. It was so clear, as though it had happened yesterday, so what was happening now? The same moment, the same conversation, the same stream of events, so was today simply similar? A riddle in time, fooling him into believing he was living the same day again?

He ditched his cool in a moment, carelessly, his confusion out in an instant.

"Come to the window," she instructed after a few perplexing sentences were exchanged between them.

"Why?"

"Because I'm outside."

"Bullshit."

"Take a look."

A pause. He lifted his eyes to the window, to the bloodied red sky framed with skyscrapers and smog, and a small, cold drop of relief formed in his chest somewhere near his heart. Relief and...possibly a little disappointment...?

Why disappointment?

"I don't see anything."

"That is because I'm not out there anymore!" He could almost hear her giggle though he had no idea what her voice sounded like. She had him. A six-year-old (a real one, that is) wouldn't have fallen for that.

"Turn around."

Instinctively he turned.

A girl stood in front of him.

He almost jumped out of his skin. He wasn't expecting somebody to be there; everything rational in him had already written off the last thing she'd said as another prank.

But she was there. And she wasn't human.

No, she was far from it. She had grey skin- not like the cold, ugly grey of the pavement, but the grey of a thousand different-coloured stars all blurred into one glittering slurry of a nebula, glowing bright and warm in the night sky. Her eyes glinted golden with pure black irises and thick red eyelashes framing them, feline in shape and almost sad were it not for the smile her matching red lipstick drew on her soft jaw. Jet black hair fell in waves around her face, soft and shiny, crowned with a pair of curled, orange-yellow ram's horns. She had a hood drawn up over her head with holes for the horns, attached to a simple red dress that hung loose over her body, and from her shoulder blades sprouted a pair of red wings; like a butterfly's, delicate and veined and almost transparent.

He had been too silent. She mustn't know how surprised he was.

"Oh, sup? Looks like you're a fairy." A fairy. How old was he? She didn't seem to notice the stupidity of his comment, but her smile grew a little wider.

"Yeah," her voice was melodic and soft, but there was something about it that made him shiver. Something haunting.

"That's cool," he said, mostly to ensure her that he was _the _Dave Strider, and everything she had heard about his coolness was true, and maybe partly because he didn't want her to think that her being a fairy was wrong or anything. Because, a rapidly dwindling portion of his brain told him, it totally was; what kind of gay unicorn rainbow fantasy had he stumbled into? He was cool with it, though.

She flicked her glossy hair over a narrow shoulder, and he couldn't ignore the curve of her lips as she moved, forming a little heart once she was at perfect profile angle from him.

And suddenly his surroundings seemed to shudder around him. He was barely aware of the television flickering of its own accord, of his apartment wall melting away into metal corridors and of the very clothes he was wearing changing as if Jade's wardrobifyer was set to Manic Random Fit, inflicting its fashion choices onto him. With each different shirt and suit a different memory flickered into life in his mind, a gate opening to some sectioned off parts of his brain. He was barely aware of the sentences spouting from his mouth like a runaway engine- he was reeling off memories and confusions and feelings and Aradia just stood, the occasional reply ringing like the peal of a thousand bells reverberating around him.

When his brain joined his body in the stomach-lurching gravitational hurl he'd just experienced, he found himself in a garish green suit and soaked in hot blood.

His gut tied a knot in his body and he swayed, a dizziness washing over him like a tide of warm water, chasing the air from his lungs. He was much too warm, and he couldn't stop the panic rising up inside him. He lifted his head, suddenly heavy like a dumbbell strung to his neck, and met Aradia's gaze. Her eyes were lowered in soft sympathy, her lips pursed like she felt every emotion Dave felt.

What was his purpose now? Why was he living this nightmare? He was dimly aware that he was dead, and the world around him existed in a sort of bubble - his afterlife - that Aradia was visiting. The realisation terrified him, but somehow he could hold himself steady in Aradia's perpetual stare; partly out of his blinding arrogance - _he would not let her see him lose it_ - and partly, another realisation that cooled his blood - the portion of it that was still in his veins and not all over his suit - the other realisation was that there was some comfort in her gaze, and if he had to go through this, he was glad for the company of a pretty girl.

"What do I do now?"

Her ears pricked and she tilted her head slightly, an unvoiced question.

"I mean, there's gotta be something that I can do, to stop Alpha Dave from dying, to help my friends..."

"It's not your business anymore. Let it go." The words should have hurt him, but they didn't - instead, a little weight lifted from his shoulders as he left his responsibility behind.

"Are you dead, too?"

She smiled.

"I am very much alive, and I intend to stay that way."

"But you can visit dream bubbles, right? Whenever you want?"

Aradia fixed him with another unreadable stare, and somehow some little alarm bell somewhere within the mechanics of his chest told him that she was onto him, but he found himself not caring for once about his cool. He was dead, that was it, he could finally be himself. It was a lot to take in, but he felt he could do it, and it had more to do with the girl in front of him than he probably would've admitted.

"That's right. You don't have to go through this alone. There are people here, in the afterlife, friends. Friends you know and some you don't, but we are all here for each other."

He managed a smirk, unused muscles complaining at anything other than his trademark poker face, and she stepped closer to him. He felt he could fall into those deep, dark eyes.

Dave decided the afterlife wasn't going to be so bad after all.


End file.
